


A Light in the Dark

by Mamacallie



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Canon Divergence, Depression, Discussions of Past Trauma, M/M, Mutual Pining, Not Epilogue Compliant, Post-War, Slow Burn, descriptions of death and violence, stubborn assholes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-09
Updated: 2016-07-09
Packaged: 2018-07-21 16:18:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7394605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mamacallie/pseuds/Mamacallie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He felt like he was drowning in inky black water, slipping further into the belly of a beast intent on devouring him. He thought the light he found was just the beast opening its maw for another swallow, allowing him a chance to escape he wasn't sure he wanted, but instead he found a hand earnestly reaching to pull him out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Light in the Dark

**Author's Note:**

> I'm supposed to be writing original stuff, but this happened instead! I really hope you guys like it! Leave a comment if you do, I love them!

Nothing really changed after the war. At least, not for Harry. There were still expectations people had of him, duties he was meant to uphold. The Ministry hounded him to join the Auror program, and he was pressured to help with every restoration effort, and every second of every day was filled with people coming and going, asking him questions he had no answers to and invading what little space he had. There was barely time to sleep, and even that eluded him. Most nights he just didn't, but on the rare occasion Harry managed to slip quietly into sleep's embrace, he woke in cold sweats with screams still on his lips. His dreams were stained with the blood of friends, loved ones, and innocents who had lost their lives in the Battle at Hogwarts. He could still see flashes of their blank, lifeless faces when he closed his eyes. If Harry did manage to sleep at all, it was short lived and ended with him pushing away sobs that threatened to cripple him.

Hermione and Ron knew, of course they heard him, but he refused to talk about it. He had no reason to believe they were not also suffering from nightmares and fears, but at least they had each other. Harry had no one to comfort him. He'd made Ginny wait for him for too long, and though she said she still loved him deeply, he felt unable to give her what she needed; what she deserved. So she moved on, comforting a different boy in a different house when he woke up, infrequently, from nightmares of green flashes and silver masks.

He felt like a disappointment when he'd finally had enough people demanding his attentions constantly. Harry wanted silence, and perhaps solitude for a while. Maybe he wanted to be an Auror eventually, he'd said, but not now. "I need a rest.", he'd said, hoping people would understand. But they didn't. People were upset, angry. It was his duty to keep protecting them, they argued. He'd brought the war to them, others said, so it was his responsibility to repair the damage.

He'd had enough.

Harry left England, promising to return after he'd had time to recuperate, but he wasn't entirely sure he believed himself. He couldn't quite say how long he needed to be away, or if he'd ever know when to return. He made promises he couldn't keep, and his friends didn't say they knew. I'll visit, he told them, and owl often. But, of course, he didn't. And, of course, his friends understood.

He settled on a small town in Germany. The countryside was beautiful and relaxing, the city gently bustling during the day and comfortably quiet at night. Every once in a while, someone would recognize him but typically they were polite about it. This, he decided, was what he needed and he'd stay there as long as he could stand it. He happily explored the town, visiting shops and boutiques with interest and striking up friendly conversations when the chance occurred. Existence in this little town was pleasant, relaxing. Harry almost felt he could drive away the nightmares and monsters, for a time, living there. But he was still alone, and he still woke in cold sweats with the names of the dead burning holes in his throat.

All good things have a flaw, and this quaint German town had a flaw Harry didn't want to acknowledge or confront. He'd been perusing a cute florist's shop, overflowing with magical flowers and succulents in the windows, when Harry saw him standing behind the counter. What were the chances they'd run into each other here, Harry thought, standing still in the middle of an aisle and staring at the man in the green apron. What was he doing here? His hands tightened on the small pot he'd picked up to get a closer look at, and he ran over the thought of leaving in his mind. Before Harry could make a proper decision, cool grey eyes met his in surprise.

"Potter.", Malfoy said, almost quietly. They hadn't seen each other since the Malfoys trials ended. Truthfully, Harry would have sought Malfoy out at that time, extended a tentative hand in friendship perhaps. In the aftermath of the war, he had understood why Malfoy had done many of the things he had been on trial for. In a similar position, Harry would have acted the same. But he'd never had a chance to express this sentiment to Malfoy, as the man had disappeared shortly after the trials. Harry couldn't blame him, especially in the wake of his own shadows threatening to swallow him. But here Malfoy stood, awkwardly staring at Harry in a florist shop wearing a green apron splashed with flecks of pollen. Harry swallowed thickly, his eyes darting to look at anything but Malfoy's face.

"What a coincidence, running into you here.", he said

"I work here."

That was an odd notion, Harry thought. He could never imagine Malfoy working for anything, but he remembered all the Malfoy estate being seized by the Ministry so of course Malfoy had to get a job. "What are you doing here?", he heard Malfoy ask, his voice not quite as harsh as it used to be but a hint of apprehension tangible as he spoke.

"Just on holiday.", Harry said quickly, hoping Malfoy couldn't tell he was lying. He could.

Neither of them knew what to say at that point, and an already awkward encounter grew uncomfortable. "Do.. Do you like working here?", Harry asked.

"I don't need pleasantries.", Malfoy replied, his usual demeanor and snark trickling into his expression and voice. "I just wanted to know if the Golden Boy was here to haul me off for more trials and questioning." His voice was cold, snide. The surprise in his eyes had faded, replaced with disdain.

Harry met his gaze, indignant. "No. Of course not."

Malfoy stayed silent a moment, his lips pressed into a thin line that eerily reminded Harry of Petunia for a moment. "Good.", Malfoy said. "Leave me alone." He turned and promptly walked into the back room of the shop, leaving Harry alone with the smattering of patrons staring curiously at him. He put the pot back down on the shelf and left.

 

Harry was entirely unsure how to handle living in the same small town as Malfoy. Of all the places in Europe, or even the world, how had they both ended up in the same place? Surely there were other peaceful villages for Malfoy to take residence in, Harry thought, but of course Malfoy was not the intruder; Harry was. Though Harry had only been in town for a handful of days, he had wanted to call the place home if he could. He worried that Malfoy being here would put unneeded stress on his already delicate situation. But he loved the town, the gentle breezes and blue skies and the orange sunsets cresting on hill tops. If he wanted to stay, Harry decided, he'd have to get along with Malfoy.

The opportunity came much sooner than he'd expected as he soon discovered Malfoy lived in the small flat across from his own. Another unfortunate coincidence, he mused as, again, he and Malfoy stood staring at each other.

"Are you following me?", Malfoy said, sneering.

"I live here."

Malfoy blinked and looked down the hall, then back to Harry. "No.", he said. "You can't live here. I live here, you have to live somewhere else."

"Sorry, Malfoy, I bought this flat last week. I live here.", Harry told him matter-of-factly. Malfoy huffed - actually huffed, something Harry had not seen him do since they were children - and walked into his flat, slamming the door behind him. Harry stared at the door for several moments, slowly processing that he and Malfoy were neighbors.

"Go home, Potter!", Malfoy yelled from behind his door, his voice muffled. Harry couldn't stop the chuckle that bubbled up from his chest, the first in a long time. He grabbed the newspaper he'd stepped out into the hall to grab in the first place, and closed his door behind him as he stepped into his flat.

 

Living across from Malfoy made it easier for Harry to decide they should talk, and, several days later, he stood in front of Malfoy's door holding a bottle of wine. It was a decent vintage, he thought, and perhaps Malfoy wouldn't immediately slam the door in his face. Harry knocked tentatively, the door swung open, and Malfoy stood in the doorway, eyes cold, and body haloed in the soft light emitting from his flat. He eyed Harry, then the bottle. 

"No.", he said, turning to close the door. He paused, grabbed the bottle from Harry, and slammed the door shut. Harry wasn't sure why he had expected anything more than what he got, but he didn't let it stop him. He knocked again, with more purpose. The door opened again and Malfoy looked annoyed.

"I said 'no', Potter, don't you understand English?", he said.

"I got that so we could talk.", Harry replied, ignoring the question. 

"There's nothing to talk about. Go away."

Harry sighed and looked at Malfoy with irritation. "There's plenty to talk about, Malfoy. Now invite me in for some wine, it's only polite since I bought it for you."

Malfoy knew he was right and stared at Harry with disdain for a moment before stepping aside, motioning for Harry to enter. Harry walked in and looked around the minimally decorated flat while Draco stalked to the kitchen to grab two glasses. 

"Sit.", Malfoy said from the other room, and Harry did. He sat neatly in one of the arm chairs next to a cold fireplace, watching the kitchen doorway when Malfoy returned with wine glasses. Malfoy sat in the other armchair next to the fireplace, filling a glass and handing it to Harry before filling his own. Harry awkwardly took a sip. 

"What is this about, Potter? I've been perfectly happy living here alone, why are you ruining my peace?", Malfoy asked. 

Harry took another sip. "I would have had this conversation with you after the trials, but you disappeared."

Malfoy studied Harry closely, his glass of wine dangling from his fingertips elegantly. "Is that what this is about?", he laughed. "Good god, Potter, don't tell me you came here to seek friendship with me."

Harry willed his face not to burn with embarrassment, but it did anyway. Malfoy laughed again. "So what if I did, Malfoy? Things are different now. They should have been different a long time ago, perhaps if I hadn't been so.... blinded by hatred I could have-"

"Saved me? Of course, that's what you're really after. Saint Potter chasing his hero complex again." Malfoy took a drink from his glass. "My decisions were my own, and I didn't need saving. I don't need you to swoop in and reassure me that everything is fine now, that the past is inconsequential."

"That's not-"

"Did you think you owed me something? For what, lying for you in the Manor? You repaid that debt twice over, I no longer require your pity."

Malfoy didn't look at Harry, assuming Harry wouldn't speak after such a dismissal. But, of course, he was wrong. 

"I don't pity you, Malfoy. I've never pitied you."

A heavy silence sat between them for several moments. Finally, Malfoy turned his head to look at Harry, his grey eyes slightly intrigued. "Then why are you here?"

Harry sighed. "Honestly, running into you was a coincidence. I got tired of never having a moment to myself, so I left."

"And decided to harass me instead?"

He chuckled. "No. No, I think I just figured you deserved me being nice."

Malfoy watched Harry carefully before speaking. "What did the rest of the Golden Trio think of you leaving?"

"They weren't exactly happy, but they'll be fine.", Harry said. He looked down at his wine and continued, "They have each other."

"As opposed to you being alone?", Malfoy asked, a little snidely. He almost felt bad when Harry replied. 

"Yes."

Another silence sat between them, palpable and uncomfortable. "What happened to Weaselette?", Malfoy said, draining his glass and refilling it. 

"It was unfair of me to ask her to keep waiting, especially when I'm unsure if I'm ever going to be in a place to give her what she needs... What she deserves." Harry drained his glass, too, and Malfoy reached over with the bottle to refill it. 

"You broke up.", he said.

"We were never exactly together?", Harry said. He sighed in frustration, leaning back in his seat. "I mean, it was weird. And the timing was so bad. And now that there's.. nothing to fight against, there's no threat... Everything feels wrong. I have a hard enough time keeping myself together, it wouldn't have been fair for me to ask her to shoulder that burden."

Malfoy's gaze softened. Struggling to keep yourself together was something he'd understood for years. "Me, too.", he said. "Not.. Not about dating someone but... Feeling like you're constantly falling apart is something all too familiar to me."

Harry looked up, a little surprised, and met Malfoy's eyes. They stared at each other like that for a while. "Malfoy-", Harry started, his voice soft. 

"You should go.", Malfoy cut him off, standing up swiftly from the arm chair and taking his glass to the kitchen. Harry stood and watched him walk away, slowly making his way to the door. He stared at the kitchen door, his hand on the doorknob of the flat's entrance, for a few silent minutes before finally leaving. 

 

 

Things were different after that, less tense. Malfoy returned Harry's polite hellos and sometimes his soft smiles. If they left at the same time, occasionally Harry would accompany Malfoy to the flower shop and hold simple small talk with him. Neither of them admitted that it was pleasant, so they let things remain unsaid between them. This continued for nearly a week before a door was knocked. This time, Malfoy stood awkwardly in front of Harry's door. 

"Malfoy?", Harry asked as he rounded the corner. Malfoy looked at him, surprised. 

"I didn't know you were out.", he said, watching Harry pull his house key out and unlock the door. Harry chuckled. 

"Did you want something?"

Malfoy wasn't sure if he should tell Harry he'd wanted to talk again, but his hesitancy had Harry cocking his head slightly and asking "Well?", and Malfoy cleared his throat. "I thought we could talk again."

Harry blinked at him for a second. "Oh."

"Forget it.", Malfoy said, turning to go back to his own flat.

Harry grabbed his arm. "Wait.", he said, letting go when Malfoy pointedly looked at his hand. "Just.. Come in." Harry stepped inside his flat and flicked on the light, taking his coat off and tossing it on a nearby chair. Malfoy hesitated, again, before stepping through the door. In comparison to Malfoy's home, Harry's was... eclectic?, Malfoy thought. There was no discernible style and everything seemed tossed randomly about. There were too many pictures on the mantle, and the shelves sagged with books. Books? Malfoy didn't think Harry was one to read much.

"You can sit on the couch, if you want.", Harry said. "I'll make some tea."

Malfoy sat on the edge of the couch, looking at the Muggle magazines scattered on the coffee table. He idly picked up one that looked fashionable and thumbed through it, mildly impressed by some of the designs. Harry came back with two mugs of tea and a bowl of sugar several minutes later.

"Never expected to see a Malfoy reading a Muggle magazine.", he said, amused, as he sat on the other end of the couch. He set the tea and sugar on the table and started adding several teaspoons to his mug.

"Clothes are about aesthetics, Muggle or not.. I suppose they're not all terrible.", Malfoy mused. He watched Harry add yet more sugar to his tea. "Are you planning on drinking syrup? That's too sweet."

"It's the only proper way to drink tea." Harry said. He set the teaspoon down next to Malfoy's mug and grabbed the magazine from the blonde. "Hmm... You'd look good in this one." He held the magazine up to show Malfoy the dark, fitted suit and silver tie. 

"Black was always my color, Potter." Malfoy smirked, putting exactly two spoonfuls of sugar in his tea and blowing gently over the mug before taking a small sip.

Harry watched him, something stirring in his chest that he couldn't quite decipher or even know if he wanted to. "Harry.", he said suddenly.

"What?", Malfoy asked, turning his head to meet Harry's eyes, his own filled with surprise. 

"My name. Call me by it." Harry bit the inside of his cheek, trying not to overthink his sudden decision.

They sat quietly for a while, awkwardly looking away from each other. Malfoy was starting to get tired of all these silences.

"You don't have to, Malfoy.", Harry said after a few minutes.

"Draco." He didn't say anything else, but he didn't need to. Draco looked at the floor, and when Harry actually said his name, his heart skittered for a split second and Draco didn't want to think about why. 

"Draco." Harry said. "I think I can do that."

 

 

 

 Harry wanted to kick himself. He'd been spending more time with Draco since they'd had tea, sometimes even grabbing a quick meal here and there, and every time they were around each other Harry's chest felt tight. Whatever had stirred during tea was only growing, and Harry didn't know what he was going to do about it. Never in his life had he ever thought his heart would skip beats and butterflies would erupt in his stomach when he saw Draco smile. It made his head spin, he kept overthinking everything. How was he supposed to process these emotions on top of the mess the rest of him was? Harry didn't want to, it wasn't fair to either of them for him to feel this way. But then Draco would talk about things he loved, potions and flowers and constellations, and Harry couldn't take his eyes off the way Draco looked - bright eyed, smiling. The thought of not letting in to whatever he might be feeling and explore where the emotions took him made Harry want to cry, but he knew he'd only be met with rejection and disgust. So he kept them carefully guarded under lock and key, never letting on how he had begun to cherish the color of Draco's cheeks when he laughed too hard.

Except he was terrible at hiding things. 

Draco had seen Harry looking at him, something soft and fond in his green eyes. It happened often, and each time Draco felt his skin burn under Harry's gaze. Draco was sure he had been misreading things, projecting onto Harry his own muddled feelings of attraction. He told himself it was simply because of their closeness, born out of the loneliness he'd suffered since the war and his unfortunate need for companionship. Of course, that wasn't true and Draco knew but he preferred to lie to himself as long as he could manage. 

So things stayed the same for a long time, months passing in which they enjoyed each other's company and grew closer as friends. Sometimes, the wrong thing would be said and everything would feel on the verge of breaking, stressed too much. But every time, there was an apology - usually in the form of wine - and regret, and promises of doing better. And forgiveness. Harry and Draco both kept their feelings as hidden as possible, only reviewing them in the solitary comfort of their own flats late at night, and reminding themselves why they couldn't just march across the hall and-

No. Every time, no. They quietly agonized over their decisions, but were each convinced it was the best option to hope their feelings would eventually pass. 

Except Harry started having nightmares again.

Harry had not had nightmares in months. Things were so peaceful and stress free, he had finally been able to start healing and working through things. He'd fallen asleep on Draco's couch after a late dinner they'd shared, and Draco had simply tossed a blanket over him and left him be til morning. Several hours into Draco's own sleep, he'd been woken by screams and blearily stumbled into the living room. 

The blanket he'd put over Harry was tangled around the other's legs as Harry flailed on the couch, as if trying to escape something, and screamed "NO!" over and over. Draco rushed to his side, grabbing him by the shoulders and trying to wake him. 

"Harry!", he yelled, shaking Harry. "Harry, wake up!"

With a jerk, Harry's eyes flew open and he looked around the room, frantically trying to register where he was.

"Harry, it's fine, you're alright.", Draco said, relaxing now that Harry was awake. He looked down at the other, concern clearly written on his face. Harry's eyes found Draco's and he calmed down, breath ragged and short. He lurched up and clung to Draco tightly, shaking slightly from both the adrenaline coursing through him and the quiet sobs he let through. Draco's shirt dampened from Harry's tears and he awkwardly put his arms around Harry, feeling like he was failing at comforting him. 

"I'm sorry.", Harry muttered. 

"You can't control nightmares, it's fine."

"I thought I'd stopped having them."

They were silent for a while after that, sitting on the couch in each other's arms. Finally, Harry pulled away and wiped his face off, looking sullenly at the floor.

"Do you want to talk about it?", Draco asked. He figured it'd be the same as always - Voldemort, his friends dying in the Battle, flashes of green. "What happened?"

"I-", Harry started, turning to look at Draco with a pained expression. He hesitated, his mouth making shapes but no words. Then: "I lost you."

"What?" Draco looked at Harry's red, tear streaked face, his own eyes wide. 

"We... were found by some Death Eaters who'd gone into hiding and they killed you for being with me." Harry looked away. "They made me watch while they....", he trailed off, screwing his eyes shut and pushing the dream away. Draco wasn't sure how to process the information. 

"I was.. with you?", he asked. Harry laughed dryly. 

"Yes, Draco. Like a relationship." He wanted to look at Draco, to hold his face and be comforted. But he didn't let himself turn around. "It was just a dream. A bad one. Don't worry about it."

Another silence fell over them and Draco hated it. Any time they were ever close to talking about their emotions, they would just go quiet, and Draco was tired of it. He didn't think, he didn't have time to. Draco's mouth was moving before he could stop himself, and Harry was looking at him with wide eyes. 

"You... what?"

"I.." Draco was appalled he'd actually said it, but now that he'd finally put it out in the open, he couldn't back away. "I think I love you."

Harry just stared at him, and for so long that Draco felt his face turn red. "Forget it!", he said, laughing awkwardly. "It's nothing, don't think about it. Really, Harry, it's nothing to wo-"

Draco's eyes widened as Harry practically shoved their lips together. Harry's hands, rough and warm, were on either side of his face, holding him in place, and Draco felt like he was melting. He wound his arms around Harry's neck and let himself go into the kiss, which felt desperate with emotion. Everything was a clash of teeth and lips and toungue, and when they finally parted they were both nearly out of breath. 

"I've been dying to do that for months.", Harry said. 

"Shut up." Draco kissed him again, dragging Harry down to the couch with him.


End file.
